Dying But Not Dead
by Necessary Degree
Summary: Another item to add to the list of things Maka wasn't ready for. Sad Eater, character death. SoMa but Maka and Spirit-centric.


A short thing I wrote for Fabulousanima on Tumblr (Twin-Lupus here I think)

* * *

Two hours.

That was all the sleep they managed after the mission.

Two hours and a phone call from the academy that lasted a fraction of the time.

It didn't take long to wake Soul. He was used to using her erratic wavelengths as an alarm clock. Mostly during missions, never when sharing a bed in their apartment. Soul was out of bed with the keys to his motorcycle in hand before Maka even had her shoes on.

Maka's voice cracked and she became a bumbling mess while trying to explain why they were leaving for the infirmary at five AM. Eventually, Soul told her to stop. He didn't need an reason. Her near tears were reason enough for him to break all speeding laws.

They were greeted by a solemn Stein looking lost without his usual crazed smile and a cigaret. Just in time, he told them. Not going to make it. Almost gone.

Maka didn't catch much. Everything felt bland and her mind was slowly blanking out.

Stein continued to speak, she didn't catch anything else. Soul's hand led her forward. Instinctively, she followed his soul knowing he'd keep by her side.

There wasn't a beeping monitor. Just a screen with numbers and lines and numbers and lines.

Drunk driving.

Maka looked to Stein at the words but he shook his head and continued on.

Spirit wasn't intoxicated. The other driver crashed through the highway dividers and into Spirit's car. They both went through their windshields, seatbelt laws unenforced.

One driver dead upon impact. Dead and a murderer.

Spirit was dying.

Dying but not dead.

Dying and almost dead. Bile rose in Maka's throat at the thought but she swallowed it down.

He was gray and limp and dying but not dead.

Maka brought a callused hand to her mouth. Fading warmth where Soul held it.

Walking to Spirit's bedside became the equivalent of walking a thousand miles. Maka didn't seem to move much at all and Spirit didn't seem to come any closer until Maka was upon him.

Hours turned days turned months turned years later, Maka grasped a cold hand and held it to her cheek.

He didn't wake suddenly shouting proclamations of his love for her or yell at Soul for having the nerve to make physical contact with his precious daughter in his presence.

No one really expected him to.

The numbers on the monitor rose by two and slowed back down.

Mouth opening and closing, Maka searched for words to say. Searched for the words of their last conversation, searched for the last words she said to him.

Throat closing up, Maka had nothing.

"Papa," she choked out, the two syllables now foreign and broken on her tongue. "Papa, I…" Tears broke free and she wiped furiously at her eyes. No, she was okay with crying, but she wanted to get a good look at Spirit first. "Please don't go," a pause so she could regain her voice.

Her free hand searched for Soul's to squeeze.

"I'm not ready. I mean, I thought I was ready during the divorce and after the battle on the moon and after our graduation." Another pause, her voice a series of squeaks and sniffles. "But I'm not. I'll never be ready!"

She tightened her grip on Spirit's hand wanting it to magically warm up and become less sweaty. To turn into the hands she knew.

The number on the monitor went up and back down.

Everything was painfully familiar. Again, she knew the outcome of this hospital trip. This time, she'd be leaving with papers for a funeral service in hand.

"I… You're my Papa. You're shitty and a womanizer and embarrassing and I wanted to hate you but I can't _because you're mine._" More tears escaped and she let them flow having had a good enough look at him. "Papa, I love you."

The monitor rose two and fell.

And fell.

And fell.

And continued to fall.

Before the monitor could flatline, a bright orb roughly the size of a basketball chose that moment to escape Spirit's chest.

Maka reached out cradling the soul to her chest then cradling herself into Soul. They stayed like that for a good while with Maka's heart wrenching sobs to keep them company.

When Stein entered to retrieve the soul of his best friend, Maka straightened up and with a final farewell, she handed him over.

She wasn't ready. She'd never be. In their line of work, partings were never final.

As Stein carefully took the soul from her hands, Maka made sure to calm down, even if it was just a bit.

She didn't want Spirit's last memory of her wavelengths to be distressed.


End file.
